


Just Might Find 4

by helens78, Telesilla



Series: Just Might Find [7]
Category: Equilibrium (2002) RPF
Genre: BDSM, Beating, Dom/sub, Fisting, Interrogation, Kink, M/M, Masochism, Sadism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-20
Updated: 2005-10-20
Packaged: 2017-10-05 17:50:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telesilla/pseuds/Telesilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A couple of private thoughts from Sean and Bill, and then the boys have a rough interrogation scene.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Might Find 4

_private_

Two scenes and now a third. Bruises all over.

Not going to think about it. Not going to think about it. Just _do_ it.

* * *

 

  
_private; posted before Bill sees Sean for the third time._

Three scenes. Sean doesn't know this but three scenes are my limit before it's a thing. And this is definitely a thing. A thing where I want more than just an afternoon here or there. I want to wake up with my cock in his mouth, want to drag him up into the bed at 3am and fuck him while he's still mostly asleep, want to learn what he's like when he's so desperate to come that he can't speak and I still say no.

I _want_. And one of the good things about being the top is that you get what you want.

It's even better when you have a boy who wants so much that you can taste it on him. Sean's that boy right now. And maybe he won't want like this once he's over his divorce, maybe this is a rebound thing for him.

Well, that's just fine. I'm not looking for forever -- with him or with anyone. To paraphrase Robin Williams: I'm not looking for Mr. Right; I'm looking for Mr. Right Now.

And that's exactly what Sean is.

* * *

 

  
"Good afternoon, Mr. Bean," the concierge says with a pleasant smile as Sean walks in. "Mr. Fichtner asked that I give this to you." She hands Sean a note and then nods to two rather large male attendants who step up to the desk.

Sean glances at the note's instructions and his jaw drops. "Bloody hell," he mutters, then nods and immediately starts stripping. Strip, let the concierge cuff him and blindfold him, and then... well, then the men take over. Sean's getting hard already. It's not going to be easy walking like that, but then he doubts that'll bother the men any. _Maybe they'll drag me. Oh, fuck._ Hard for sure now.

Once Sean's naked, the concierge takes his clothes and cuffs his wrists. "Are you ready for the blindfold?" she asks. When Sean nods and leans forward, she fastens the formfitting padded black blindfold around his head. "Please have an enjoyable afternoon," she says as the two attendants come forward.

One of the men grabs Sean's upper arm, gripping it tightly, while the other clips the cuffs closed behind Sean's hands. "C'mon then," the one behind Sean growls. "Let's get you up to see the Sergeant."

Sean's not completely sure how to play this -- whether to struggle with them or just go where they're telling him -- but he figures if he's supposed to struggle, he'll figure that out along the way, and meantime it's better not to cause any more trouble, or more to the point, delay the scene any more than necessary. So he goes along with it, letting them shove him when they want to, probably enjoying it all a little more than he should be.

Instead of taking the elevator, the two men hurry Sean along to the nearest stairs. "Don't fall down the bloody steps," one of them says as a warning. "Sarge wants to be the one to bang you up."

_Suppose it wouldn't do to tell them how much I've been looking forward to getting banged up by him again. Not to mention banged,_ Sean thinks, and has to bite the inside of his cheek _hard_ to keep from smirking. He doesn't want to go into this with a smirk on his face.

That's easier once the men get Sean down the steps, down a hall, and into a room. He can't tell what's in the room so far, but he gets shoved into a hard metal chair -- _fuck, cold_ \-- and his cuffs are locked to it, along with his ankles. Trapped. Solid. Harder than hell. _Oh, damn, sir. Thank you._

Bill watches from the corner of the room as the men cuff Sean to the chair. _Should have had him wear clothes I could cut off him,_ he thinks as the guys leave the room. _Some other time, perhaps._

About five minutes pass, during which Bill's just standing there silently, admiring the way Sean looks. It's not just that he's naked and blindfolded and bound; Sean looks hungry and not nearly as apprehensive as Bill might expect for a man in his position.

"So," he says quietly. "Here we are again. Do you feel like talking?"

_Again. All right._ The bruises left over from their last scene aren't healed completely, and it's easy enough making the mental switch to thinking of them as coming from another interrogation scene like this. Sean exhales slowly and shakes his head. "There's nothing I can tell you, sir. I don't have the information you're looking for."

"You don't know where your own unit is stationed?" Bill asks, his voice sharp with sarcastic disbelief. "I suppose you haven't remembered how many men are in it, or what kind of equipment they have, either."

"No, sir. I'm sorry, sir, but I don't know anything." Sean braces himself; he knows it's not the answer Bill-as-interrogator is looking for.

"Well, you're either stupid, or lying," Bill says, moving in closer. "And I know you have to be intelligent to do what you do, so I'm going for a verdict of lying." He slaps Sean's face hard and then backhands him. "You're going to tell me, you know. Eventually."

The impact stings but doesn't knock the chair over. If it did, though, there'd be nothing he could do about it. _Christ, he hits hard._ Sean slides his tongue out over his lips and tries to catch his breath. "Can't tell you what I don't know, sir," he says. "I can't make you believe me."

"True," Bill says, reaching for the blindfold. "But you will tell me what you do know." He yanks the blindfold off Sean's face. "I'm actually hoping it takes a while; I enjoy this part of my job."

Sean winces when the light hits his eyes, blinking to try to adjust. It's stark, bare, the room empty of everything except one light right above them. He squints up at Bill, tries to stretch his arms and legs. "I've already told you my name, my rank. That's all I've got, sir." That and his hard-on and the knowledge that he's not going to complain a bit if this takes all afternoon. _God, I love scenes like this._

"Tell me," Bill says, crossing his arms over his chest as he stares at Sean. "Do you have any kind of an imagination? Or did they train that out of you?"

Sean's eyes zero in on Bill's, and he holds that look for a few seconds. "I've still got my imagination, sir," he says. That's not classified information, but where's Bill going with it?

"Then imagine what I'm going to do to you in the next few hours," Bill says, his voice cool and collected. "And be glad I've got the time to take with you, because if I didn't, I'd just start by blowing your fucking kneecap off."

That gets a wince out of Sean, and he looks away, not seeming quite as brave now. And then there's the thought of what Bill's going to do to him, and his cock, which is not quite as good at roleplay as Sean is, jerks between his legs. He couldn't hide how interested _that_ part of him is in all this if he tried.

"The fact that you're apparently a sick fuck who gets off on this only makes it more interesting," Bill says, finally moving to stand in front of Sean again. He runs his fingers through Sean's hair, grabbing handful in the back and pulling Sean's head back hard. "Gives me more to work with."

"Or less," Sean grits out, the sudden rough pull just making him that much harder. "If you've got a sick fuck who likes what you're doing to him, maybe it's not going to convince him to talk."

"It will when I have one more thing to torture him with," Bill says, his free hand moving down to grip Sean's cock tightly.

_Oh, God, more._ Sean's just barely keeping himself from begging. "With all due respect, sir, that's not what I'd call torture."

"It will be," Bill says pulling a cock ring out of his pocket and snapping it firmly around the base of Sean's cock. "Shall we get started, then?" he asks, kneeling down to uncuff Sean's ankles from the chair.

If Sean were at a point where struggling, fighting, might help, he could try lashing out at Bill once his legs are free. But his soldier-boy persona probably tried that last time and probably paid for it in bruises. So he keeps still, watching Bill carefully and wondering just where he's going to start.

Bill was prepared for Sean to fight back, but he's glad when Sean doesn't. When he moves behind Sean to unlock the cuffs, he keeps his hands on Sean's wrists. "If you fight me too much," he says, "I'll break your fucking arm."

Something about the calm way Bill says that has Sean shivering, ready to stay put in his place, and that grip on his wrists reminds him of how it felt to have Bill make the first move downstairs at the pool, that grip on his wrist that had Sean wanting to go to his knees. But it's bloody difficult not fighting, not trying to drag himself free, even though there's nowhere to go, nothing to do even if he could get out of this room.

"Bright boy," Bill says, removing the cuffs one by one to replace them with suspension cuffs. "Conserving your strength. I like that, gives me more time to work you over." As he speaks, he grabs Sean's arm and pulls him out of the chair. "C'mon."

Bill leads Sean over to a chain hanging from the ceiling at just the edge of the light provided by the room's only lamp. Working quickly and efficiently, he soon has Sean strung up with just enough slack that he can rest his feet flat on the ground.

"So," Bill says, moving around in front of Sean. "Shall we begin?"

Suspension cuffs. After the last month, Sean could develop a kink and a half for them. He barely keeps from grinning as Bill gets him into place, and as soon as the chains are secure, he tugs hard at them, almost hard enough to knock himself off balance. "You're not going to get a fucking thing out of me," he growls.

"Do you have any idea who many times I've heard that?" Bill asks, looking bored as he steps out of the light. He picks up a piece of hard rubber hose and moves back into Sean's sight. "And would you care to bet how many times I've gotten the information I wanted?"

"There's a first time for everything," Sean says, glaring. _Fuck, that's going to hurt in all the right ways._

"Not this time," Bill says, moving behind Sean. He strikes out with the hose, landing the first blow on Sean's calf and following it up with one that leaves a nice red mark on Sean's thigh.

"Fuck, _fuck_," Sean growls, through clenched teeth, each strike hurting hard. At least he's not needing to beg yet -- he has a feeling it wouldn't go over well with the sergeant if he were begging for more already.

"That comes later," Bill says, continuing to land hard blows at random all over Sean's legs and ass. "Although it's good to know you're looking forward to it. In fact," he adds as a particularly blow makes Sean grunt. "In fact, I think you're enjoying this beating a bit too, aren't you, soldier?"

"Fuck you, sir," Sean snarls. _Don't make it too easy for him. Not the point._

"Maybe, but you have to give me a reason to let you do it." Bill pauses for a moment, sliding a hand across Sean's ass. "Those bruises from last time must still hurt." He caresses Sean a little more and then draws back his hand and punches Sean hard, the thud loud in the room.

Sean just about manages to hold back the grunt, but not quite. Christ, that _hurt_, and Bill was dead on when it comes to the bruises. They still ache, and they ache a hell of a lot more when they're getting touched. It'll be enough to have him screaming if Bill keeps it up.

After a couple more carefully placed blows that Bill knows will leave deep bruises on Sean's ass, he goes back to using the hose. _I could get used to this, used to having someone like this to beat,_ he thinks and then wonders if he isn't already. It's an interesting thought, but one he can't entertain right now.

"So," he says, moving back in front of Sean. "Now that I've got you a little warmed up, do you feel like talking?"

About all Sean feels like doing now is panting softly and trying to catch his breath. The pain's intense, his ass and thighs still throbbing from it, and that's a warmup. Bill's not through with him yet, which just amazes Sean. Bill's not afraid to hurt the hell out of him, and it's been three scenes now and he isn't wearing out from it. _Thank you_ are the first words that come to mind, but they're not the right ones for this scene, so Sean struggles for an answer to Bill's question. _What happens if I talk now?_ he wonders. "What do you need to know?" he asks.

"You know perfectly well what I want," Bill says, slapping Sean hard across the stomach. "I need the location of your unit and its strength." He slaps Sean again, this time across his side.

"Christ -- _please_," Sean groans, "please, hurts, fuck, I'd tell you where they are if I knew." There's just enough desperation in Sean's voice to sell what he's saying, but this is always such a tricky spot in roleplay -- when it's time to start begging for it to stop but stopping's the last thing Sean wants.

"No," Bill says, and this time the slap is across Sean's face. "I'm not buying it. Where were they when you left them? You should know that much at least."

"Fuck," Sean whispers. "Two miles east of where your men got me. Due east. There's cover, a hill. That's where they were." He looks up at Bill. "Just please let me down." _When you're done with me, that is._

"We knew that, actually," Bill says with a cold little smile. "Three hours after we got you, we wiped them all out. As for letting you down," and he slaps Sean's face again. "I wouldn't be in such a hurry for that, if I were you."

Sean snarls, jerking forward, nearly losing his balance as he bares his teeth and lunges toward Bill, snapping at him. "Fucking _bastard_," he yells. "You fucking let me down and--" _And what?_ Well, he hasn't figured that part out yet, but he'll think of something.

"And?" Bill asks, easily stepping away from Sean. "Fuck you? You seem to want that." He slaps Sean's cock. "Your guys aren't so much with the 'don't ask, don't tell', are you?" He slaps it again. "Because I didn't really ask, did I?"

Those hands. Christ, it's going to drive Sean mad, flesh stinging from Bill's slaps, body feeling bruised all over. But he looks down at Bill's crotch, and even unable to see the outline of his cock through his camo pants, even though he can't tell for certain, he's more than willing to bet that Bill's as turned on as he is. "Is that what you're really after?" he growls back. "Do you do this just so you've got a good excuse to fuck the men you question?"

"No," Bill says, his expression making it clear he'll not rise to Sean's bait. "I do it so I can get answers. Any fun I have along the way is just ... me being all I can be." He moves behind Sean as he speaks and crowds up close behind him, grinding his erection again Sean's ass.

It would be an effort not to laugh if Sean weren't so damned aroused by now. "And you called me a liar," Sean says, pressing back, hissing as the move rubs rough cloth against new bruises and welts. "You're getting off on it as much as I am."

"I never said I didn't like doing this," Bill says, reaching around Sean to twist one of Sean's nipples hard. "I think the time's at hand, soldier." He reaches up and unclips Sean's wrists from the chain, leaving the cuffs together. Keeping his grip tight on one of Sean's arms, he leads Sean over to where a plain metal table is bolted to the floor. "On it on your back."

Struggle or stay calm. Sean's not sure which way to play it, how much fight Bill wants to see, but he's not ready to climb up on the table and lie there waiting for it. He's got more fight left in him than that.

He jerks forward, trying to twist out of Bill's grip. "Like fucking hell I will."

"Stop it," Bill snaps, slapping the back of Sean's head. "I can do what I want to do even if you're bleeding from a bullet. In fact, why don't you fight a little more; I might like to fuck you while you scream."

_Hell, yeah, I'd like that, too,_ Sean thinks, and fighting harder's even easier with Bill's so-called threat behind it. He jerks at Bill's grip, twisting even as he's aiming himself for the table, figuring if he's going to fall -- or get pushed -- he'd rather get shoved into the table than have to take a fall all the way to the floor. His knees aren't what they used to be.

Appreciating the way that Sean's making this easier, Bill moves with the motion, pushing hard and slamming Sean onto the table. A flick of a finger has Sean's cuffs off, but before Sean can fight it too much, Bill's locked one of them to the chain at the corner of the table. "Now you can get yourself nice and settled," he says, breathing a little hard. "Or I can do it for you."

"Get fucked," Sean growls, jerking away, but he does manage to jerk back in such a way as to have himself nice and settled on the table, legs spread and thighs pressed hard into the edge.

"Don't you fucking wish," Bill says, slapping Sean's cock again before he moves up to chain Sean's other wrist to the table. Then he's moving to the foot of it, yanking on Sean's hips before he is satisfied with Sean's position. Reaching under the table, he pulls up more chains, clipping them to Sean's ankle cuffs so that Sean's feet are resting on the table.

"So," Bill says reaching into his pocket. "What do you think happens next?"

Sean jerks at his wrists, snarling up at Bill. "You can't think of anything more original to do than fuck me?" he snaps.

It's the perfect line for what Bill has in mind, and he finds himself wondering if Sean is that good at guessing things. "I think I can come up with something," he says, pulling the glove out of his pocket. Looking down at Sean, he tugs it on. "Something a little more inventive."

"Oh, fuck me," Sean whispers, role blown for half a second as the realization hits full force. He tries to dig back into it, but the protests are coming out halfhearted at best now. "You're not -- I can't -- you're out of your mind," he says.

"Yes, yes and no," Bill says, moving away for a moment. He hits the light switch, now the spot over the table is on and the one over the chair fades. After grabbing a tub of Elbow Grease, Bill returns to the table, making a bit of a show of lubing up his fingers.

Sean gives another soft whimper and forces himself not to melt into the table. "Please," he whispers, but at this point it's not sounding much like a protest anymore.

Bill treats it like a protest because that's what they're doing here and he knows that it's not easy for someone in Sean's position to have to act while wanting something desperately. "Begging me not to do it will only get me off," he says, stepping forward and pushing three fingers into Sean hard.

"Oh, fuck, please," Sean groans, shoving himself down against Bill's fingers. "Please, fuck, I'll tell you whatever you want to know, just please, no more." This while he's shoving himself down like a whore. He's probably not being very convincing.

"Maybe this is what I want to know," Bill says. "Maybe I want to know how far up your ass my arm will go." He twists his fingers briskly, watching as Sean moves to meet each thrust.

"Jesus Christ," Sean breathes, trying not to squirm as Bill keeps moving his hand. "Fucking Jesus Christ." About the most he's taken is from Carrie-Anne -- a few inches past her wrist -- and the limit's never been tested, not really. "Please -- want -- _fuck_," Sean gasps, "more, please..." He knows he isn't supposed to beg for more, but he can't help it. He's starting to want it far too much to protest.

"I knew when they first brought you in that you'd be a whore for it," Bill says, twisting his fingers once more before pulling out a bit. "Might have to keep you around as a pet," he says, adding more lube before going in with four fingers. "You'd make a perfect pet."

The idea doesn't even make Sean flinch. Begging for it's got him far enough down that he'd agree to almost anything, and with Bill thrusting in like that his defenses are all but gone. "Please -- I'll be so fucking good for you, sir, please don't stop."

"Yeah, you will," Bill says, opening Sean up a little more before tucking his thumb into his palm. "Might have to make sure you appreciate how good you have it with me," he says, pushing steadily. "Might have to lend you out to my men."

_Oh, fuck, I'm going to come before he's even got his hand in me,_ Sean thinks. He doesn't, but he has to bite down hard on his lower lip to keep from it. The idea of being passed around Bill's men isn't unappealing at all, and Sean tries to relax for Bill's hand. _I can do this, come on, open up._

"Let me in," Bill says firmly. "I'm going to do this anyway, so let me in." He pulls back a little and then pressing forward again. "Breathe for me, boy." He knows he's getting away from the roleplay, but this is just as good, and Sean doesn't seem to be minding it too much.

"Yes, sir," Sean pants. It's amazing how something as simple as breathing can get away from him at times like this, but with the order he's actually remembering to do it, loosening up and letting Bill in. "Oh god -- fuck -- so fucking good, sir."

"Good boy," Bill says, pushing past the last bit of resistance. "There," he adds. "I'm in, and fuck but you're fucking hot. Like being smacked around, don't you, boy?"

"When it's someone who knows what he's doing," Sean murmurs, not really thinking about what he's saying now. He tries not to clench up, but fuck, this feels good, and he could come with just a breath. Just an order. "Like it when it's you, sir," he says softly.

Sean's words cause Bill to blink a little. "I like hurting you, boy," he replies, moving his fist carefully. "I like a boy who can take a lot and keep asking for more." _I think we're going to need to talk after this._

"_Mmm._" That gets Sean tugging slightly against his cuffs and wanting to squirm down against Bill's hand. "Please, more?" He licks his lips, groans softly. "Could take more than this, sir, please."

"Yeah, you'll take it," Bill growls, a little amused at his own tough guy act. He watches Sean closely, his gaze moving from Sean's face to his ass, where Bill's hand and wrist are buried in Sean's body. "You're a good boy," he says. "And you'll take it for me."

"Christ, yes, please, sir," Sean groans, "please, want more, _need_, please, as much as you'll give me..." Groaning's not the half of it; Sean can feel himself sweating, feel his cock aching to come, and he'll feel stretched and sore after this and God it'll be worth it.

In spite of Sean's words, Bill's not sure Sean can take too much more. Sean's tense, and Bill has a feeling this is something more than just the tension of a heavy scene. "Just to the elbow," he says, his other hand gripping Sean's hip. "This time."

_This time._ Sean nods, takes a deep breath, and does his best to relax again. He wants this -- wants to be pushed, given more and then more after that, and it's so fucking good taking this from Bill. No past. No baggage. Just the scene and how good it feels being able to trust someone this way.

"There you go," Bill says after another moment. "All the way up to the elbow, boy. Ever had that before?"

"No, sir," Sean murmurs. "But it sounds fucking terrific."

"Well, you've got it now," Bill says as he reaches out to drag one finger lightly up Sean's cock. "You want to come for me, boy?"

"Christ, yes, please," Sean groans. He knows better than to take that as permission, though, so he holds still and barely manages to keep from coming all over Bill's fingers. "Please let me come for you -- _please_."

"Convince me," Bill says with a smile. "I want to really hear you beg for it."

"Oh -- please, God, I'm so fucking close and Christ, so _full_, please let me -- God, want it so much, sir, please let me come for you, _please_."

It's not bad, as begging goes. _If he were mine,_ Bill thinks and then cuts off the thought. _But he's not._ "Give it to me," he say, giving Sean's cock a very light slap with his fingers before he wraps his hand around it and strokes hard.

Sean can't form more words; he just screams, coming hard and fast all over Bill's hand, streaks spilling out over his stomach, and holy God but Bill's arm feels huge inside him now. "Fucking -- good, sir," he pants out, "_thank you_."

"Good boy," Bill says. "I'm impressed." He pats Sean's hip lightly. "You need to keep breathing steadily; this is the hard part."

"Yes, sir." Sean winces, forcing himself not to tense up. It's not easy, though; once Bill gets started it's going to hurt having his arm worked back out. "Christ, thank you, sir."

"Just stay with me, boy," Bill says, carefully easing his hand out of Sean. "That's it ... breathe ... good boy...." Once he's done, he gives Sean another light pat. "I'll be back in a sec to get you down from the table," he says, heading toward the sink in one corner of the room.

Sean sighs, nodding and stretching as best he can while he's still cuffed down. It's not a bad feeling, though, staying restrained like this; it makes him feel safe. He sinks into the table, finally relaxing completely, knowing he'll be sore well into tomorrow. It's a good feeling.

Once Bill's washed up, he comes back over to the table. "Now, boy," he says, unbuttoning the fly of his camos. "Let's see what you can do for me, boy." Before Sean has much time to react, Bill's up on the table. Straddling Sean's chest, he grins down at Sean. "Want it?"

A bit startled, but no less interested for that, Sean tilts his head up as best he can and flicks his tongue out over his lips. "Hell, yes, sir," he says, grinning. "I'd fucking love to suck your cock, sir."

"I just bet you would," Bill replies as he moves into position. Leaning over Sean, he looks down and growls. "Open up that mouth, boy." And as soon as Sean obeys, Bill slides his cock in, not quite hard enough to choke Sean.

Sean doesn't have the leverage he'd need to force his mouth up further, take in more cock, but he sucks hard and groans around it as Bill starts fucking him. After all this, _now_ Sean's struggling -- he's pulling against his cuffs, trying to rock up harder, wanting to have his mouth taken as thoroughly as his ass was.

"Yeah," Bill groans, knowing he's not going to last long. "Fight to get more of it." He moves a little, managing to shove more of his cock into Sean's mouth. Resting one hand on the table near Sean's head, he grabs Sean's hair and holds his head still, backing off every once in a while so Sean can catch a breath.

Perfect. That grip's just perfect, and Sean gives over, lets Bill fuck him, use him, take everything he needs. _Needed this so much. Didn't even know how much._ And he's aching all over and desperate and good fucking God, he wants to taste Bill's come, feel it in the back of his throat. _Please._

A little surprised he even managed to last as long as he did, Bill shoves into Sean's mouth once more and comes hard. "Fuck ... fuck," he gasps as he finally lets go of Sean's hair and moves back a little. "Damn good...."

"Mmmm... yes, sir," Sean moans. "Fucking good -- thank you for letting me serve..." He licks across his lips, taking up the last taste of Bill and grinning. "Christ, thank you for everything."

"Oh, trust me, I enjoyed myself as well," Bill says, reaching for the cuffs. He unhooks Sean's wrists first and then his ankles. "I enjoyed you, too," he adds with a mock leer. "Seriously, though, would you like to rest and then have dinner? I can have something sent down."

Sean rubs at his wrists, then stretches his legs out, wincing as it makes skin stretch against new welts and bruises and reminds him just how much he took for Bill tonight. "That sounds perfect, sir, I'd love that. Thank you." He looks up hopefully. "Does resting come with stretching out in bed and curling up?"

"Of course it does," Bill says. He grins at Sean. "Beating someone like you takes a lot out of a guy." He offers Sean a hand.

"I hope that's a good thing," Sean says, taking Bill's hand. He squeezes Bill's hand hard, realizing just how glad he is that he ran into Bill at the pool, how glad he's been for all three scenes now. Bill's the only person Sean's scened with three times in the last month. It's something to think about.

"Are you kidding?" Bill slings an arm around Sean's waist, leading him into the bedroom attached to the play room. "It's great to scene with someone who can take as much as you do." He gets Sean settled on the bed and sits down to take his boots off. "I've really been enjoying this."

"So have I," Sean admits, stretching out on his side and rolling his neck a bit. "I were just thinking about that -- that I'm glad I ran into you again."

"Me too," Bill says, settling in bed next to Sean. He moves in close, and drops his hand to Sean's right wrist to play idly with the cuff there. "Been thinking about that a little lately."

"Oh," Sean says softly, glancing back to the cuff and Bill's fingers on it. "I haven't been thinking further ahead than the next scene lately. But I've started thinking about the next one before the current one's up when it comes to you. That's--" _nice_ "--new."

"I'm flattered," Bill says. "I'd been thinking ... how would you feel about a short term contract? Nothing binding beyond the end of it, of course."

A dozen different responses struggle to get through, and the one Sean blurts out first is "How short-term?"

"I was thinking maybe a week?" Bill suggests. He's not sure what to make of Sean's response and he can't help wondering if the idea was a bad one. "I can understand if it's too soon."

_Too soon? My husband's nearly living with his lover, the men I'm getting over have forgotten I exist, what's too soon about this? And I want it._ That's what breaks through Sean's urge to say yes, it's too soon. He wants a week. A full week to kneel and go down and not have to come up out of headspace unless he's ready. "It's not too soon," Sean says. "But I have two daughters I've been looking after, and my ex-wife doesn't get back to London until Saturday."

"That sounds perfect," Bill says, his fingers tightening around Sean's wrist a little. _And if he likes the week ... no, let's not try to anticipate here._ But Bill can't help wondering if Sean would consider a longer contract. _I'd be a fool to let him get away._ "That'll give you time to heal up."

"So you can decide how to mark me next?" Sean murmurs, grinning. "Mel's home Saturday morning. I could come to you Sunday." Mel doesn't need to know why he'd be gone for a week. And he'd be back.

"That works for me," Bill says. "I'm looking at a few places this week, but I doubt I'll close on anything. So we'll have to talk about where we want to spend our time." He laughs a little. "What do you like to do when you're not having the crap beaten out of you?"

"Nothing too unusual. I go to footie games when I can, I spend time with my girls, I read, run in the mornings, I like to cook... I had a studio where I did sword work back in LA. Need to get in touch with my old trainer so I can start doing that again here, now that I'm staying."

"We'll have to see if there's a game we can go to next week," Bill says with a smirk. "It'll be fun; couple of pals going to a game. No one will need to know that you have a plug up your ass and that these," he flicks one of Sean's nipple rings, "are attached to a cock ring."

Sean groans. "I'm going to spend the week going out of my mind, aren't I?" he asks. But he's grinning as he says it. "Not that I'm complaining, sir."

"Out of your mind in the fun way," Bill says. "You getting hungry? I figured we could hammer out the details over dinner."

"That sounds perfect, sir," Sean says. "And God, I'm starved." He laughs. "Had no idea. I could definitely stand for dinner."

Once they've ordered, Bill relaxes and keeps the conversation fairly light, letting Sean explain how the football leagues work. It all sounds horribly complicated, but Sean's enthusiasm is enjoyable and Bill figures he really doesn't have to understand the leagues to enjoy watching a match.

By the time dinner's arrived, Sean seems to have come out of headspace and Bill is the one who helps the girl set things up right by the bed. "Feel free to eat lying on your stomach," he says to Sean. "No need to sit for a while."

"Thank you," Sean says, propping himself up on his elbows and looking over the food. It all looks wonderful, and he's wondering if he's going to get handfed again. _Stop that. Come on, you need to be up and out of headspace if you're going to talk about a contract._ Even the thought of being under contract for a week has his heart beating a little faster; it amazes him how much he wants this.

"Help yourself," Bill says with a slight smile. While he wouldn't mind feeding Sean again, right now that's not where he wants Sean to be. _Later. Time enough for that later._ Although, really, Bill has to wonder if he'll come up with so many things he wants to do later that a week won't be enough. _Let's not get ahead of ourselves here._

"So, I suppose the first thing I should ask is if you want this to be 24/7 -- you staying with me the whole week."

"Ideally, yeah. I did a weekend with someone a few weeks back like that, and it was nice. I might need a little time up -- I can't really tell right now -- but we could either schedule that or play it by ear."

"Why don't we play it by ear," Bill replies. "I tend to schedule time when I have a long term contract; for something like this I'll be fine with you telling me when you want up." He pauses to take a bite of his steak sandwich. "I don't collar boys for short term contracts, but you'll wear cuffs all the time we're not in public. Also, I noticed you liked the leash, so I'll have that on you a fair amount of the time."

_Thank you._ Sean nods, rubs his palm over his cheek. "That sounds fantastic, sir. I'd love that."

"I thought as much," Bill says. "How's your back? Are you up to sleeping on a pad on the floor?"

"My back's definitely not as young as it used to be. I could probably handle that without being too stiff in the morning if we could get something thick, though, something like a futon?" Ah, the benefits of having spent a year with Viggo; Sean probably wouldn't have even known the word if it weren't for him. He grins a little.

"All right, I'll have one sent up to the suite. Let's see.... I don't really need formal voice; it's one of the issues I'm flexible about, so if it helps you find the right space, then use it. But if you do, I'll expect all the time."

Sean winces. "I don't think I could stay in it all the time without a bit of practice. Maybe this time out we--" _What the hell are you talking about, 'this time out'? What are you doing?_ "Maybe for the week I shouldn't bother with it. I don't want to struggle over words when I could be doing something more useful."

"You like being useful?" Bill asks. "How useful? Since we'll be in the hotel here, there won't be many domestic duties, but, just out of curiosity, do you like that sort of thing?"

"It's been a long time -- a very long time," Sean admits. "I liked it in the morning, though -- breakfast, waking my dom up, that sort of thing, and I did like to cook." Maybe he shouldn't mention that he alphabetizes soup cans, though.

"Hmmm," Bill murmurs, reaching out to run a finger across Sean's mouth. "Here's what I like in the morning. I'll tell you the night before when I want to be woken up. You order coffee and have them send it up in something that'll keep it hot while you climb in bed and wake me up with a blow job." He grins at Sean. "And even after a blow job, I'm not really human until I've had my coffee."

Sean flicks his tongue out so he can lick Bill's fingertip. "I'd be more than happy to do that for sir," he says. Routine, plans, ground rules. The setup for this week has him feeling more settled than he's felt in months. "You might want to know ahead of time that I'm a morning person. It makes mornings like that very easy for me, but I tend to start losing my energy earlier than most."

"Well," Bill says with a laugh. "I'm not as young as I used to be. As long as I can send you to bed with marks on you, I don't mind if it's early."

"Can't wait to go to bed with your marks on me, sir," Sean murmurs. The tips of his ears go red when he says it, even though it's been obvious all along how hungry he's been for this. _God, the week's going to be fantastic._

"Good." Bill pauses for a moment. "You talked about complications with knives in your email. Is it a bloodplay thing, or just knives in general?"

"Knives in general," Sean admits. "I love them -- always have -- had a scene where I came just from being cut once -- but it's been a long time since I could play with them without thinking of the bad scene I had." There's a harsh pang of regret that hits him with that; he remembers how much he wanted to work through his fear of knives with Eric, and the way he flinched when Eric brought out a knife in Romania. _We never had enough time._

Bill nods; bad scenes can mess with the head of even the most experienced player. "That's rough," he says, resting a hand lightly on Sean's wrist. "Do you want to try to work on that, or would you rather not?" He finds himself hoping Sean does; he doesn't want to give up the idea of fucking Sean with the hilt of one of his larger knives.

"I _want_ to work on it," Sean says immediately, firmly. "But I think it'd take more than a week to get me comfortable with knives the way I used to be."

"Perhaps some other time then," Bill says easily. He looks right into Sean's eyes. "I can think of plenty of other things to fill up a week." He could, he realizes, think of plenty of things to fill up a month or two, and he wonders if it's too early to think about a three month contract. _Probably is._

"Christ, I bet you can, sir," Sean murmurs, eyes going dark with the possibilities. "I'm looking forward to finding out what you'll want from me while I'm yours." _Yours. Oh, fuck..._ His heart takes a small leap into his throat and he swallows it back down. "And if you don't mind my making the suggestion -- I could probably handle knife play without panicking over it as long as you weren't drawing blood. I don't know if that makes a difference -- if you'd want to go there -- but it's a thought, sir."

"I don't mind suggestions at all," Bill says. "Particularly during early negotiations like this. Once you're under contract, I'll still listen to them, but I'll be less inclined to follow them." He smiles a little. "And I do like this suggestion; I can work with it."

"Thank you," Sean murmurs. He stretches, the wince on his face broken up with a grin that says he doesn't mind wincing, doesn't mind the leftover aches from the scene at all. "I think it's going to be a good week. I hope it's good for you, too."

_-end-_


End file.
